Darylism #167

Daryl (after seeing a new jcpenney commercial on tv): “I don’t remember who I was telling this, but I think the new jcp commercials should SHOW the employees using the new ipad for checkouts.”

Ed: “That was ME you were telling that the other night after a half a bottle of wine.”

Daryl: “I need new people to talk to.”

the noise of insanity.

And there are these days where I feel the walls of my mind falling apart among themselves in silent clamor. I hear them crumbling and cracking within my head as they struggle for space within to call their own. I push them, and push them again far away from the stairs to my heart. I will not open that straining door to those blackened blocks of fear, of panic, of insecurity and failure.

Life and her grace continue to provide me with newer and brighter mornings to find hope in every hopeless situation. It lays at my feet the capacity to build newer and better relationships. I must capture all the fleeting frantic sticky moments of this day and force them… no, cradle them within my soul and mortar those tumbling chunks of insanity within.

I WILL succeed today. I WILL once again, be able to detour that which is not welcome in my world. I WILL breathe in the perfect peace and fill my lungs with inhaled freedom. I will squeeze my eyes shut harder still to deny the light of any cruelty on this day as this gloriously exhaustive struggle of staying sane remains.

better than sex.

There. I said it. As I rapidly approach the age of 56 in a week or two with my heels dug into the floor like a sugar-induced 4 year old at the end of a Chucky Cheese Birthday party, I have proclaimed that a good foot rub IS, in fact, better than sex.

Now mind you, I’ve had my share of outstanding sex, so I speak with authority. I’ve had sex with people that I either long to remember, can’t remember, or don’t WANT to remember. There were sexcapades in exotic locations like beach front homes, hot tubs overlooking city skylines, the Ritz-Carlton overlooking Central Park in autumn, once on a gondola ride to the top of Mount Killington in Vermont, and even once in the private dining room of a restaurant. I’ve also enjoyed sexual encounters in not so exotic, but no less exciting places like sofas, cars (both front and back seats and once the hood of), bathrooms, bedrooms, kitchens, and even the occasional alley and stairwell. Oh the blog entries I have ahead of me…

However, none of them compare to the feeling of having an honest to goodness foot rub. My job in sales requires that I work on my feet for several hours at a time. I continue to smile at work in hard soled shoes and I am fortunate enough to have a man who thinks nothing of offering me a foot rub when I get home to make me feel good. He’s pretty much offered to do them from about a month into our now 8 year relationship.

He has good hands… strong hands. Over time Daryl has learned to adjust his touch via my facial expressions, verbal cues, or perhaps it’s the guttural moan that accompanies an especially tender ball. Of my foot, the ball of my foot! We haven’t used lotions, oils or scrubs while he continues to improve the circulation of my aching dogs.

Then one time after a particularly vigorous rub (or maybe it’s been several times, damn it!) I thought I heard him ask ME if I’d return the favor.

Asking me AFTER my foot rub, is like asking a guy if he loves you after sex. Hello? I just came after all that pleasure and now I want to take a nap. Wham bam thank you uh… MAN. Anyway, I ignored his requests for reciprocal rubs because… well… I think it’s because my hands aren’t strong enough (lie) or perhaps I have an aversion to feet in general (lie), or maybe it’s just due to the fact that I’m selfish (truth).

Well tonight, it’s going down. This afternoon I went out and bought one of those foot soaking bubble massagers at Wal-Mart for under 20 bucks. Problem solved! I’ll just tell him to let me fill it up, plug it in, turn it on, and watch the fun begin! It’s like a dildo for your feet!

You think I’m THAT shallow?

Don’t worry. I’m not THAT selfish and uncaring most times. I WILL let him soak his feet after I make an outstanding dinner accompanied with a choice wine. I’ll provide music and a relaxing mood as he soaks his cares away. Once he’s all wet and seduced by bubbly joy, I promise to give his balls (feet) a rub as well as manipulate his digits (minds up here) with scented oils and moisturizing creams.

Hopefully he’ll be so relaxed, he won’t be able to walk. In a good way.

Last Breath.

And as the silence drew closer still

As if suffocation of spirit wasn’t enough

As if her pain racked body wasn’t enough

Her cracked lips parted

And a whisper struggled from the deepest depth of her heart

To take its place among the stale air around her face

As if pushing her gently from life’s ledge wasn’t enough

As if letting her drug filled eyes blink away saltless tears wasn’t enough

The cruel watch decided with its ever moving hands

As the whirring of machines still ticked

Compassion might win this time

And allow her to sing the finale that every person must know

By letting her parched note tumble into

The soft abyss of her final slumber

Of the beginning

Of her peace.

Afro Puffs.

Afro Puffs..

It’s just SO hard.

I honestly didn’t think it would be this hard.

If I had a quarter for every time I’ve heard that… I’d have a dime.

Seriously though, today I “deactivated” my Face Book account. It had become part of my daily (mostly morning) ritual.

Keurig on.
Lamp on.
Laptop on.
Face Book on.
Click, click, space bar, click…

Checking overnight status updates from West Coast friends while I slumbered during the night and then touching base with regular “morning folks” over a cup of hot java while watching the sun rise or rain fall outside the sliding glass door of my flat.

I would always try to locate an inspirational quote or photo to start the day. Perhaps listing my plans for one of my two days off during the week, or what I was prepping to chef for dinner for Daryl and I that evening. I enjoyed playing keyboard exhibitionist. I guess I felt like there were people out there who actually enjoyed my life’s quirks, words, and moments. I kind of cared about theirs… sometimes, quite deeply.

I think I became a “LIKE” whore as well. Photos of Daryl and I out enjoying wonderful meals, movies and get togethers that would solicit comments and likes as if we were Hollywood celebrities. Perhaps it was the addiction of seeing positive reactions to the updates. Maybe it was simply a way to push good energy easily from the comfort of my couch.

I sometimes struggle to remember what I actually DID before my morning Face Book ritual and more urgently important… What do I do now? My fingers need that QWERTY interaction. My mind still needs to spill its unorganized and frantic thoughts onto the light of my laptop screen to eventually be exposed to the internet world.

I’ll blog again, like I did a year or so ago.

Hang on… Here goes…

scare me.

I’ve heard it said that “you should do ONE thing every day that scares you.” Today, I did just that.

The political firestorm that seems to have divided our country this year seems to have ignited my soul to the point of wanting to try something completely out of my realm of normalcy. There have been disagreements over our role in Syria’s revolution, Social Security and Medicare bankruptcies, and the decision of a woman’s right to her body versus the point of conception. It all scares me. I’d say it scares the Jesus out of me, but then I’ve got Christianity on my back.

I wanted something more personal to jolt me out of my daily socialist entitlement and complacency.

Sigh.

So this morning, after my extraordinary one hour walk in the neighborhood, I got to thinking. No, make that… I got to steaming passionately about what could “I” do to wake myself up? How could I motivate ME to take a real stance on, not only our country, but ME? How could “I” do something that would frighten me so much that I could look back and refer to it as my new beginning… my awakening!

I tried to think back through my life of fifty plus years. I thought long and hard to image in my mind the things that made my life normal in my past. Then it hit me like a Biden smile during a vice presidential debate. I seem to remember starting it religiously (damn Christians) when I was barely through puberty. There were dates, parties, hell… even a marriage and kids, and I still did this same thing every day of my life. Today, it was going to change. Today, I was going to do it differently. Today, I was going to step out of my comfort zone and become afraid.

I could hardly wait for the goose bumps.

It all started innocently enough really. I was sweating profusely from the vigorous walk in the autumnal air this morning and I needed to shower. As I opened the sage green and taupe matching shower curtain, I saw it! The shampoo. THAT’s what I would avoid THIS day. That is how I would scare Ed Williams on this 12^th day of October.

So I did it. I mean, I didn’t do it. I mean, I avoided it.

I went without shampooing my hair. Scoff if you must, but I did not wash my hair for the first time since I can remember. Don’t get me wrong… I wet it mind you… we’re not death defying here… just trying to scare ourselves a little.

God! How liberating! After towel drying, I toyed with it a little in the mirror. I felt like it looked heavier, perhaps a little duller… but damn, I was a fucking rebel!

We’re meeting friends out tonight and I hope I can get through this okay. Tomorrow, I’m going to attempt to go without soap.